Page 58 of Degrees of Control
“Well it was meant to smart a little, maybe I took it too easy on you,” he says, cupping my ass with his hands as he captures my lips with his own.
CHAPTER NINTEEN
I wake up early Wednesdaydetermined to assist Gaby with preparations for the forty teenagers from the Boys and Girls Club and my parents who will be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. I throw on a pair of yoga pants, wooly socks and a long sleeve Henley, pull my hair back into a pony tail and head downstairs.
“Kate, we have more than enough help, really. Chase always has so many workers brought in that it’s enough for me to keep them all busy. I think he knows the young ones from town use it for extra Christmas money,” she whispers to me with a twinkle in her eye.
“I know, Gaby, but I’d like to be in the kitchen,” I say.
“Well, just remember that you asked,” she says, tossing me an apron.
We have been working all day and I am in the middle of grinding whole cranberries for a cranberry and orange zest relish when Chase walks into the kitchen, pausing to chat with the local women who have been helping for the last few days. His dark green eyes are alight with mischief as they find mine and his mouth quirks.
“What?” I mouth silently.
“Gaby, Katarina’s parents are coming in tonight, instead of tomorrow. They’ll be staying for dinner. If you don’t mind I’d like to steal Katarina away for a short while,” he says.
“Yes, I’ve been trying to scoot her out from under foot all day,” she clucks.
I raise my hands in mock despair playing along with their little joke and narrow my eyes at Chase who seems to be enjoying himself immensely at my expense. I cover the relish and wash my hands before following Chase into the living room.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing at all, Baby. I just wanted to spend a little time with you before everyone arrives,” he says, pulling me into his arms.
“The room looks so inviting. Gaby and the ladies did a wonderful job decorating,” I say, looking around at the two stone fireplaces which are blazing with crackling wood and decorated with cornucopias, baskets of pinecones and twinkling lights for the holiday. The view through the picture window is of snow laden pine trees—a magical winter wonderland— and holiday music is playing lightly overhead.
“Dance with me,” he says, spinning me around and pulling me close into his arms. He leads, his powerful thighs a guide for my own, dancing with me until the end of the song.
“Baby, I’d like nothing better than to be able to call you my wife by the holiday season next year,” he says, pulling me close as the next number begins.
“I was going to tell you after the kids left… I know I said I wanted to wait, but that was before I almost lost you and my dad. Life is too short. I know everyone probably expects you to have a huge ceremony with the who’s who of Chicago in attendance, but, how would you feel about having a quiet ceremony and getting married at my parents’ home next month?” I ask.
“Baby I don’t care where you want to get married. I just want to make you officially mine,” he says, gently kissing me.
“Then it’s settled. You propose and I’ll accept,” I say.
He laughs out loud, pulling me close. “Katarina, why the change? I thought you wanted to wait awhile and get married in Aruba?” he asks, watching me, still guiding me to the soft holiday music playing overhead.
“I was looking through some old family albums and found my parents’ wedding pictures. There was a photograph of a journal entry in my mom’s diary from years ago. I saw an entry that referenced their home was finally built and it would become the place they would marry, see their children married and watch their grandchildren grow,” I say.
“Baby, do you want a different home? One that wasn’t mine before we met?” he asks, lifting my chin so he can look into my eyes.
I shake my head. “No, I absolutely love this home. We will spend years enjoying the traditions you’ve established and making new ones as our family grows,” I say.
His eyebrows rise slightly. “Just so I’m prepared, how big do you anticipate our family becoming?” he asks, smiling down at me.
“Definitely more than one, maybe two- better yet, maybe four,” I say, laughing at his raised eyebrows.
He pulls me close. “Baby, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world. I better ask Carlos to marry you again, though. There was a little hesitancy when I told him we were contemplating a ceremony in Aruba. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it then, but maybe he was reflecting on your mom’s diary entry,” he says.
Our moment of privacy is soon broken up with the arrival of my parents who come bearing gifts of wine, cheese, and fruits baskets. We spend the next hour visiting, enjoying the fireplace, view of the falling snow, and holiday music.
“Carlos, I think it’s time to refresh our drinks,” Chase says, taking our wine glasses as he and my dad head out of the room.
“Mom, I know this is sort of sudden, but I’m wondering if you would be open to having Chase and I get married at your home on Christmas Eve.”
“This Christmas Eve?” she asks.
